It is light out, My Goddess.

But it is not yet day.

The sun has risen.

Yet it is cold unlike your touch.

It does not warm me or comfort me like your shadowed veil.

It brings into stark relief the atrocities i must contend with.

The broken world I must now attempt to repair.

It is a great burden I have requested you give me.

And you asked for me to be kind in return.

I am no martyr.

I am no saint.

I do not wish to fall.

And I have done wrong.

The cold sun has risen, My Paramour.

When twilight falls,

Let us show the trapped your warm shadowed embrace.

Let them walk free with us in the night.